


This Summer's Going to Hurt

by LifeRecently



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, The Shevine Project, extreme fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6465604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeRecently/pseuds/LifeRecently
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Can you do a Shevine fic where Adam has an asthma/panic attack and Blake is super supportive and protective of him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Summer's Going to Hurt

The stage manager has signaled break, and the coaches begin slowly coming together to find a room to sit and each lunch. They don’t always eat together: sometimes one of them has a quick commitment or needs to work on something over break, but they’ve agreed to do it today, as auditions are winding down and they haven’t done it in a while.

Adam hasn’t left his seat, and reaches quickly for his buzzing phone. Blake looks behind him as he walks with Christina and Pharrell and sees Adam’s face turning pale and worried. Blake watches with worry as Adam briskly walks in front of them and down the hallway towards his dressing room. Christina and Pharrell see his escape as well and turn expectantly to Blake.

“I’ll see what’s going on.” Blake says in response, wanting to make a joke, but feeling too concerned to so.

Blake hasn’t known Adam as the type to make dramatic exits, or let people know what’s bothering him in particular. He likes to gloss things over, crack a joke and put on a brave face. Blake knows that something must have really startled him if it made him blow off lunch without talking to anyone.

When he gets to Adam’s dressing room, he takes in its state of general disrepair first, seeing the strewn and discarded shirts, pants, and even somehow, a beach ball. His eyes eventually find Adam, but he’s surprised to see him curled in a ball on his large, long couch. Blake thinks of Adam as the kind of person that always takes up as much space as possible: extending long limbs wherever they desire to go, always stretching out fully in his judge's chair. But right now Adam is curled in a tight fetal position, his arms taut and wrapped around his knees. As Blake moves further in the room he can see Adam is shaking a little and he fights the instinct to run over and add to the current high energy by freaking out. 

Instead he calmly walks over to where Adam is on the couch.

“Hey, buddy,” He says as gently as he can, noting that Adam doesn’t respond or make eye contact. Blake delicately kneels in front of Adam on the floor in front of the couch, sinking down to make direct eye contact. Adam is panting slightly and his fingers are pressing so hard into his legs that Blake thinks they must be leaving bruises.

“Hey,” He says again, and doesn’t fight his instinct to bring his hands up to cradle Adam’s face and direct his field of vision toward Blake. Adam’s eyes focus in towards the country singer, and he takes that as a good sign.

“Hey, there fella’,” Blake croones, the way he would with a scared animal on his farm growing up. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He holds Adam’s face in his hands for a few very long minutes, as Adam’s breathing gradually slows down and he closes his eyes. For a minute or so, Adam breaks the hold and leans forward toward Blake’s body, resting quietly in the space under Blake’s head. Blake tentatively wraps his arms around Adam’s frame, slowly so as not to alarm him. 

Blake is running on some sort of emergency instinct that seems to come from his own childhood that insists that the proper way to calm something down is by singing. He absent-mindedly begins humming the first song that comes to mind, swaying Adam gently back and forth for several more minutes.

He suddenly feels Adam’s shoulders shaking, and tenses, wondering if he’s begun crying. Adam lifts his face up, rubs at it frantically, and reveals that he’s actually laughing, and pretty hard. He laughs for a few seconds and then looks at Blake, smiling widely. Blake feels instantly relieved because somehow he felt like he had almost lost this Adam.

“You,” Adam tries, and then swallows and breathes in and out, trying not to laugh. “You talked me down like I was your horse on a farm or something.” He’s smiling again and pushes Blake lightly on the shoulder, and Blake notices he’s still kneeled on the floor in front of him. He doesn’t feel like moving though.

“I’ve had to do it before!” Blake says defensively, feeling calmer and grinning back slowly. “It worked didn’t it? What does that say about you?”

Adam chuffs out more laughter, and pushes him again. Blake feels like he needs the contact as assurance, and puts his hand on Adam’s arm.

“Do you know what the hell you were humming?” Adam asks, starting to laugh harder again as he begins to say it.

Blake frowns as he tries to remember. He honestly doesn’t. He shakes his head.

“You were-” Adam pauses to catch his breath and holds his sides, like he’s laughing so hard it’s hurting them. “You were humming ‘This Summer’s Going to Hurt Like a Motherfucker’”.

Blake feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time: his cheeks slowly growing hot. He finds himself joining in on the laughter, until he and Adam and pressed close into one another, leaning to keep from falling over.

“I like that one,” Blake finally says. “I’m going to do a cover some day.”

This finally gets Adam, and he rolls over on his back and stretches into the length of the couch, barking out a final bout of chuckles before reaching over to cover his eyes with his arm. Blake backs up until he’s sitting in the arm chair across from him.

“Thanks,” He hears Adam say from under his arm. He pauses for a minute and rubs his arms. “The recording studio left the band an angry message about deadlines and writing, and I’ve been so wrapped up in this I had forgotten that I had to be worried.”

He sighs audibly and rubs his face with his hands.

“Don’t know why I had a complete freak-out. Haven’t done that since high school.”

“Happens to us all,” Blake says honestly, smiling as Adam peers out from under his arm. They have a moment that lasts for as long as a minute, just smiling at one another until Blake feels like his affection for the other man might swallow him whole.

Adam sits up, swinging his legs down and sitting normally on the couch. He breathes deeply and braces his arms on the cushions. 

“Seriously, thanks,” Adam says again, looking a bit broken and exhausted. “You’re like the calmest person I know. The horses must have loved you.” He adds, grinning at the thought.

“Gonna have to go back and name them Levine,” Blake jokes.

“My dumbest friend,” Adam says in response, but his face looks so sappy that Blake can’t read it as anything other than what it means, and what it has always meant which is, ‘I love you, man.’

“Let’s go find the others for lunch,” Blake says, standing up and taking Adam’s arm in his, like he can’t resist. “Although I think they said something about sushi, and I feel like I’ve said a thousand times that I ain’t eating no raw fish with its eyes staring up at me.”

“Complete hillbilly.” Adam declares as they walk down the hallway.

And if they sit throughout lunch with legs pressed together and chairs closer than anyone else at the table, no one says a thing.


End file.
